Fatalis
by Hassawassa
Summary: Beckett contemplates what he believes of fate in an uncommonly quiet moment in the city. Drabble, longish drabble, but, Carson time none-the-less.


**Title**: Fatalis

**Summary**: Beckett contemplates what he believes of fate in an uncommonly quiet moment in the city. Drabble, longish drabble, but, Carson time none-the-less.

**Disclaimer**: Yes, yes, I own nothing. Absolutely nothing, except for the computer this fic was written on, which then again, technically it belongs to my mom. So, yeah I _really _own nothing.

* * *

I've always had this thing about fate. Call me crazy, but----I can't see living without it. I mean, how is one man supposed to contemplate every decision, every choice in his lifetime? Trying to figure it all out would drive me mad, and what's the point of enjoying life if you're going to be seconded-guessing everything you do?

I know for one, in my line of work, I can't do that. There's no doubt in what I do, my hesitation could lead to someone's death. And that, that I couldn't handle. Granted, I know, I've had people die on me, that's a way of life. Even people I really cared about, or at least started to.

But if things happen for a reason, then, where does freedom end and a defined plan begin? Who in the end, really decides 'That's how it's goin'ta be Carson, sorry.'

I've been thinking about this quite a lot, more often since we've come here to Atlantis. The things I've seen, the people I've met, and lost. Just to think if I hadn't made that choice to come along, where would I be now? I wonder just what I might be doing at this very moment.

Actually I know where I'd be. I'd be at the local pub down the street, least; down the street where I _use _to live. Over there, downing suds and watching the game on the T.V. with the blokes, just like I use to do every Friday night.

Now every Friday night; actually every night in fact, I'm praying, begging; someone doesn't get some alien disease, or, eaten by Wraith, sucked by mutant bugs, trapped in a bloody wormhole. Things when I was a lad, never even thought I'd see when I told my folks I wanted to be a doctor. When did reality become so, unreal?

And that's where fate comes in. Who knew I'd have an Ancient dormant gene in my body that I never even knew existed till I sat down in a chair? When I thought hard enough about something. God, even then I almost killed someone. I had no choice in that.

If fate's so, important, so crucial to all things, then why do I doubt it sometimes? I denounce it one moment to believe in it the next. I'll tell you why…. Because no matter what happens to me, whether I die here or not, if I ever get to see home again. People, depend on me, and that's a choice_, I made_; fate or not if I was supposed to do it.

I could have fought so hard not to be one, could of----went into the family business like all the rest of my siblings. But fate, had other plans for me.

It was when my uncle died, I think that's when I really learned it existed. My uncle Robby always told me, encouraged me to do the things I wanted to do. To strive for whatever I wanted because he, _believed_, I could get them if I worked hard enough. He seemed the only one who'd listen to me. Me and my pipe-dreams.

He was supposed to come down for the holidays when I was fifteen, I use to love it when he visited, the funniest and kindest man I ever knew. And I think, _will_, ever know.

My uncle only lived a few towns away, hour drive at the most. He phoned us one night and I talked to him myself. Told me he'd be a little late because he was feeling under the weather, but not to worry, I'd see him soon. I remember he asked me to come down with my dad and pick him up, and I told him….

And this kills me to this day. I tear up even now.

That I was using the car tonight because I had this dumb party to go to and dad was asleep. My uncle laughed, called me a little ruffian and told me it was all right, he'd just head out an hour later then planed.

He never did get out of the house that night. Turns out, about ten minutes after he hung up with me, he had a heart attack. He was there for over and hour, waiting, he couldn't get to the phone.

I started feeling guilty near ten minutes after I hung up with him; call it intuition but I knew something was wrong. By the time I lifted the keys from my father, drove all the way down to my uncle's house about as illegally as you could get. He was gone.

That's when, I realized things happened for a reason. That fate, though cruel, worked its way for purposes that, we don't even think about till it jumps us and smacks us cross the face. If I had only gone when he asked me to, I could have made it, I could have gotten him to the hospital, I _know _I could have. But that's what second-guessing gets you I suppose.

Never again. I never wanted to feel so helpless again. No more pain, no more death. I thought if I became a doctor, I could save the world, save all the people because I couldn't save him. But it was because I made the choice not to go to his house right away, that I became a doctor in the first place; because he died.

I don't think I would be here now, in the infirmary of the lost city of Atlantis, reviewing medical charts if I just had woken my father up, got in the car, and made the messily hour trip to his house. But that's fate for ya. And I've changed since then, Lord knows we all have, some better----some worse. But I'll never believe that it wasn't suppose to happen, that some grand scheme wasn't being played out. Freedom of choice, can only take you so far, but in the finish, the end's already decided.

It's just up to you, to figure out when to start it.

"Hey Doc!" I turned then, with a bit of the jump to the doorway of the infirmary to see Major Sheppard standing there, hanging his weight on one arm as he swung round looking for me. I gave him a little wave and he nodded back to me.

"Somethin' the matter?" I sigh, dropping the reports lightly on my desk, as I turned round in my seat, giving John my full attention.

He laughed softly jutting a thumb over his shoulder. "Yeah, seems we found the Ancient symbols for, 'Do Not Touch'. McKay, well-----he's, stuck."

I close my eyes. It's already late enough in the afternoon as is. And I dared admit how nice and quiet it was, that perhaps I could get some work done. "What's he got stuck Major?"

"Hand." John straightened himself out in the doorway, looking a bit more anxious then amused.

"Left or right?" I asked, reopening them.

John winced up his face, hesitating. "Both."

Rolling my eyes I stood up, looked over the area for supplies and a kit to get together as I waved Sheppard away, replying softly; yet I couldn't exactly hide my annoyance. I mean, Rodney _was_ a goddamn accident waiting to happen. "I'll be right there." I paused then, looking back at him. "He's not in any immediate danger is he? Man's not got his hands stuck in some ruddy reactor about to blow us to smithereens I hope?"

The Major laughed shortly through his nose, cocking a grin. "No, I wouldn't say----blow us up. But; I think he's about ready to gnaw his arms off like a snared animal. I'm telling ya, guy's getting rabid."

John left after that, more then likely waiting in the hall as I took my time getting the things together I thought, may or may not, be useful. Better to be safe then sorry I suppose.

Heaven knows, I know that lesson well enough. Life moves in mysterious ways, even Sheppard's quoted that once or twice. No one knows why I'm so calm in those bad situations, so clear minded. I can say the same for John actually, he's too damn calm himself. Perhaps we know, however things will turn out, is the way they were meant to turn out. I don't think they'll ever understand really. It's not exactly something you share over coffee; at the pub---watching the game. People have so many beliefs these days, things that make them comfortable and uncomfortable all at the same time.

I won't say anything more on it though, just-------I've always had this thing, about fate.

----Fin----


End file.
